"I know," he said hoarsely, managing a tiny nod. "Lucky. To have you." Tears misted his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks, running in little rivers to the pillow. Sorry wasn't enough. He knew that. The pain in his heart was worse than any wound, seeing her so angry and upset and hurt by his actions. How to explain he'd had no choice? But no, that didn't matter. He'd again hurt the people he loved the most, and for that there was no excuse.

"I know . . ." He weakly raised his hand, finding it as heavy as lead but needing to touch her. His fingers brushed her hand. "Sorry isn't . . . enough." But what else could he say? Don't hate me.